


The Road

by couchbarnacle



Series: Pave the Way Series [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couchbarnacle/pseuds/couchbarnacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take a chance on me.</p>
<p>Finally!!! I'm so sorry that it has taken me a year to get this out to you guys! I would attempt to make excuses, but you guys probs don't want to hear me whine and it's my own damn fault I didn't get it written earlier. Apologies again! You all are lovely and I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road

“Sherlock,” John shouted as he ran up the staircase, “Sherlock!? I came as quickly as I could. What’s wrong!? What’s the emergency?”

John burst into the flat heaving from running the three blocks from the Tube station. He found Sherlock wrapped in a dressing gown taking a nap on the living room floor with his head resting on a pile of scrunched up paper. 

John sighed angrily. This was getting ridiculous. Sherlock had spent the last three weeks being erratic and strange. John grabbed a blanket and draped it loosely over the detective. Based on the somewhat worrying noises that were coming from the downstairs when he was trying to sleep last night, he wouldn’t be surprised if Sherlock hadn’t actual gone to bed the previous night.

John was cleaning up some of the paper that was littered all over the floor when he spotted a fancy cardstock invitation with embossed emerald ink. John inhaled slightly as he read over the wedding invitation. Victor Trevor. Fuck, John hadn’t thought of that name in years. He mostly tried to forget the whole unfortunate event. That probably explains Sherlock’s behavior. 

Sighing sadly for his possibly broken-hearted friend, he set the envelope back down and made his way down to the first floor landing. He started ringing Greg on his mobile and waited for the DI to pick up.

“Hey, Lestrade,” John greeted him quietly. 

“John,” Greg answered, “What can I help you with? You aren’t canceling our pub night, are you?”

“No, not at all,” John answered, “I just had a quick question. Don’t worry, it’s totally inappropriate and invasive and none of my actual business, but you should definitely tell me what you know anyway.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Greg huffed, “Maybe I’m getting a call on the other line…”

“Calm down, you git,” John laughed, “It’s not about you. It’s about Sherlock.”

“Oh, well then,” Greg said happily, “Ask away.”

“Victor Trevor is getting married,” John said hurriedly.

“Who?” Greg asked sounding confused.

“Victor? Sherlock’s ex-boyfriend,” John answered, “They started dating about six months before I left. Seemed pretty serious at the time.”

“Alright,” Greg said, still sounding unsure, “I don’t actually remember Sherlock mentioning him at all. What does this have to do with anything?”

“I was just hoping that you could maybe give me some information about the relationship,” John replied, “Sherlock seems to be taking it pretty hard and I just want to be able to help in any way I can.”

“Help with what?” Greg answered.

“Well, Sherlock obviously still has feelings for him,” John continued.

“No, he doesn’t,” Greg said bluntly.

“What?” John questioned.

“He’s not still in love with some bloke he dated years ago,” Greg said sounding amused.

“Why not?” John asked.

“Because he’s in love with someone else,” Greg said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” John murmured, “Right…I didn’t know…”

“Oh, for…” Greg answered exasperated, “Just go ask him.”

“Oh, well,” John cleared his throat, “It’s none of my business.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Greg groaned, “It’s you. He’s in love with you. Always has been, hasn’t he?”

John laughed, “You lost your fucking mind, mate. Thanks for trying to take the piss though, you twat. I’ll see at the pub tomorrow.”

“I give up,” Lestrade sighed sounding forlorn, “Yeah, sure, whatever. Bye, John.”

John hung up and tried to shake off the feelings that swelled at Greg’s joke. Bloody insanity. He made his way back up to the flat determined to at least get some work done after dashing out of work suddenly due to Sherlock’s texts. John peeked in to the main area of the flat to see Sherlock still sleeping peacefully on the floor. John was tempted to answer his phone for him where it chirped on the coffee table but decided to get a start on his laundry instead. 

000000000000

“John,” Sherlock said sounding hesitant later that evening.

“Yeah?” John said, distracted by the pasta he was making on the stovetop. 

“Would you be amenable to accompanying me to an event on the 5th of May?” Sherlock asked.

“What kind of event?” John asked trying to sound casual.

“Don’t prevaricate, John,” Sherlock huffed, “I’m aware that you saw the invitation.”

“You want me to go with you to Victor’s wedding?” John asked.

“Yes…please,” Sherlock answered quietly. 

“I’ll make sure to ask off of work,” John said, not glancing up from his cooking.

“Excellent,” Sherlock said awkwardly, “Yes…that’s…yes…great.”

“Are you…” John cleared his throat, “Are you alright?”

“What?” Sherlock said, “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“No reason,” John shrugged before changing the subject, “Got a case on?”

“Meeting with a potential client at 8p,” Sherlock answered, “You coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” John grinned happily at his flatmate.

000000000000000000

“You called his mother a feathery, bedraggled hussy,” John slurred out laughing to himself while flexing his toes against the leather of Sherlock’s chair.

“It was a very accurate assessment,” Sherlock grumbled leaning heavily on his hand as he slumped in his chair. 

John giggled and slouched even further down sighing happily, “I will say that Victor is quite aesthetically pleasing. You have good taste.”

“So does his sugar daddy,” Sherlock answered with a grin, “He was a satisfactory partner when I was younger.”

“How long were you two together?’ John asked curiously, too drunk to care about bringing up even tangentially on of the most embarrassing moments of his life. 

“Hmmm…” Sherlock sighed thinking, “When do you deploy?”

“Umm…” John sighed, “24th of June…July?...no June. Definitely June.”

“Then, two weeks after that,” Sherlock said sitting up and leaning near John, “He was rather put out but honestly he wouldn’t have worked out. No point in drawing it out.”

“Why wouldn’t it have worked?” John asked quietly.

“He was just so bloody proper,” Sherlock answered causing John to laugh loudly. 

“You could never be with any one proper,” John answered with a smile, “You’d offend their delicate sensibilities.”

“No, I need someone a bit more…” Sherlock began waving his hands gangly in the air when he couldn’t mind a proper adjective.

“Mad?” John continued laughing as he leaned forward to shove at Sherlock’s shoulder gently.

“He would have to be quite brave,” Sherlock said resting a hand lightly on John’s throat.

John’s heart lurched in his chest but he licked his lips before answering, “Or a complete idiot.”

“No,” Sherlock said, his lips mere inches from John’s own, “I can’t abide idiots…”

“Boys!” Mrs. Hudson called out happily, letting herself into the flat, “I didn’t realize you would be home so early. It’s barely 9p, you know. Did you have a nice time?”

John had lurched back sharply at her entrance and had quickly gotten up and made his way toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water to clear his head. 

“Lovely,” Sherlock bit out sounding angry, “So good of you to come and check in, Mrs. Hudson. Shouldn’t you be taking your nightly herbal soother?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” she tittered, “You know I only use those on special occasions.”

“Now,” Sherlock answered loudly, “Now is a special occasion. Right now. Go away, Mrs. Hudson.”

Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson and John chided at the same time.

“Ignore him, Mrs. Hudson,” John said soothingly, “It was a bit of a hard evening for him. Watching an old love get married.”

“Oh, I understand,” Mrs. Hudson sighed.

“Old love‼?” Sherlock practically shouted over their landlady.

“It really tears at the heart,” Mrs. Hudson sighed, “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. You comfort him, John. He’s lucky to have you. Night boys.”

She scuttled off leaving two rather flustered housemates behind. They stood facing each other but avoiding the other’s gaze. After several awkward seconds, John finally heaved a deep breath and spoke, “Well, I think I’ll turn in for the night. Night.”

“John, wait,” Sherlock scrambled to catch his arm before he made it to the staircase, “Just wait…there’s something…I just…urgh…”

John patted his flatmate’s arm gently, and tried to smile reassuredly, “Don’t worry. You’re emotionally vulnerable right now. Something that you’re, admittedly, not very used to at all. It’s forgotten. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m NOT emotionally vulnerable,” Sherlock scoffed, “I’m not in love nor was I ever in love with Victor Trevor. I’m not pining or feeling alone. I’m trying to bloody confess my love for you, you stupid arse.”

Sherlock huffed loudly before slamming his mouth against John’s hard enough that John’s head smacked hard into doorjamb. 

“Bloody fuck,” John said pulling away and struggling to decide whether to address the head injury or the fact that Sherlock had split his lip during the romantic assault. 

“Bugger,” Sherlock spit out before trying to flee the scene of the crime.

“Wait,” John said, pinning him to the counter by his jacket lapels, “Stay there. Right there. Don’t move. I’ve got to get a tissue for this.”

Sherlock slumped unhappily against the counter as John saw to his lip. It actually wasn’t that bad and stopped bleeding after a minute or so. After delaying for as long as humanly possible with a not-bleeding split lip, he sighed and turned back to his best friend, “Are you at all interested in explaining what happened there?”

“Not particularly,” Sherlock answered quietly.

“Alright,” John huffed, “I’ll just ask you a series of ridiculous questions before you get frustrated and tell me anyway.”

“Don’t,” Sherlock growled, “You’ll just make incredibly dull assumptions and I don’t want to lose any brain cells listening to you. I love you. I’m in love with you. I want to be with you and I wish to engage in sexual coitus with you.”

“Oh for the love of Christ, do NOT call it coitus,” John sighed, “That’s incredibly off-putting.”

“Yes, well,” Sherlock responded, “If that’s all, I’m going to bed.”

“Why are you being so prickly about this?” John asked once again keeping him against the counter but this time with his whole body, “You can literally handle staring down the barrel of a gun without even blinking but talking to me, a bloke you’ve know since I was bloody four years old, is too much for you?”

“John,” Sherlock breathed out seeming to deflate slightly before placing his hand gently against John’s cheek, “Don’t you see? You’re one of the only things that has ever mattered to me.”

John stared up at his mad flatmate, best friend, former baby-sitter, partner-in-crime, former crush, former love…current love? John let the possibilities swirl together in his mind. He could easily second-guess this. Declare that Sherlock was just feeling lonely, just feeling emotional. He could pull back, pull away and leave. Go to bed. Pretend this never happened. Maintain their firm friendship instead of engaging in an incredibly fragile, breakable love. He could protect himself. Protect his heart. 

But let’s be honest…John’s always been a betting man.

With his heart tripping over itself in his chest, he leaned forward and let his lips press gently against Sherlock’s own.


End file.
